


Stuck Like Glue

by breeisonfire



Series: TAG prompt fics [22]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, i have no idea what i'm doing anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: flyboytracy said "Prompt (if you fancy it :D) Scott is stuck to Virgil like glue. Literally."





	Stuck Like Glue

This was less of a problem than everyone wanted to make it out to be.

Okay, it was a pretty big problem. But Scott could think of worse things than being stuck back to back with Virgil.

Of course, it would be a lot better if they weren’t dangling off a cliff, Virgil’s line being the only thing holding them up. It’d be nice if he could reach to clip to the line, too. Or if he had access to his jetpack without the possibility of burning both of them. Or if he had anything to hold onto, at all. Or if they weren’t horizontal.

On second thought, Scott would really like to not be in this position anymore.

Virgil’s scrambling to pull them upright, but Scott’s weight has tipped them, so Scott’s stuck staring straight down at the ground. His left arm is twisted painfully behind him, pinned between him and Virgil. He’d had his grappling hook in his right hand, but dropped it when the ledge they’d been on had given out.

Scott’s pretty much a dead weight unless they can shift their position so he can grab something with his right hand. Per their usual luck, his left side is the closest to the cliff wall. He’d suggested swinging, but Virgil had pointed out that they didn’t know how strong the adhesive keeping them together was, and Scott had no way to catch himself if he got knocked off. It’s at least an eighty foot drop.

In short, they’re stuck. And Scott is not happy about it.

It’s just the two of them, too. Alan and Gordon are on their way; they’d been in space dealing with the fallout of a three-ship-pile up in space traffic and had just wrapped up, about to head back to Tracy Island. Alan’s pushing it as hard as he can, but there’s only so fast they can go through reentry safely.

“How you two doing?”

 _Speak of the devil_. Alan sounds relatively calm, though Scott can hear how tired he is. They’d gone out on their rescue about eleven hours ago. There hadn’t been many survivors of the crash, but there’d been a huge mess of fuel and wreckage to sort through before they had the final count. It’s the kind of job that drains you.

And now they had to come dig Scott and Virgil out of trouble. Scott wants to yell.

Instead, he says in the driest tone he can manage, “Oh, you know. Just hanging out. Enjoying the view.”

Virgil groans, but Alan lets out a laugh, so Scott’s pretty sure he wins.

“We’re about to start reentry,” Alan says. “Our trajectory should put us landing right by you. ETA, twenty minutes.”

“F-A-B,” Scott says and hears Virgil echo him. The comm goes quiet; reentry usually wreaks havoc on the comms and Brains has yet to fully remedy that, so often Alan just shuts them off to prevent feedback.

Which leaves Scott and Virgil, hanging from a rope, glued together. It’s dark outside, though the moon’s out. Scott’s got the light from his helmet on, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

“Hell of a day, huh?” he says.

“That’s one way to put it,” Virgil says. “You okay?”

“I’m a bit hungry,” Scott says, just to hear Virgil snort. “I could really go for a burger right now.”

“Oh, God, don’t,” Virgil says. “You’ll make  _me_ hungry.”

“At least then I won’t be the only one,” Scott jokes. He tries to shift his position, but the adhesive has him good and stuck. He can’t even wiggle his fingers on his left hand, which is starting to go numb.

It falls quiet again. Scott can’t stand the silence, not when he’s stuck like this, and says, “I wonder what this stuff is.”

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. Scott can feel him trying to pull them upright again. “Whatever it is, it’s strong. Maybe Brains can replicate it.”

“He can try, as long as it stays far away from me and Thunderbird One,” Scott says, giving up and letting his legs dangle. Virgil lets out a noise of frustration as he, too, gives up. He seems to drop his head back, because the back of his helmet hits Scott’s.

“Are _you_ okay?” Scott asks. Something feels off about this and he doesn’t know what.

“I’m okay,” Virgil answers, just a little too quickly. Scott frowns.

“Wanna try that again?” he says, knocking his own helmet back against Virgil’s.

Virgil sighs. “I’m just frustrated,” he says. “I promise, that’s it.”

“About this?” Scott asks. He feels distinctly backwards, because he’s pretty sure this should be the other way around, with Virgil asking Scott what’s wrong, but hey, it’s good to try new things.

They could maybe be doing it under better circumstances, though.

Virgil’s quiet for a bit, then says, “Yes. Well - no, not entirely. But it’s mostly this.”

“Okay,” Scott says slowly. “What else is it?”

“I’m just tired,” Virgil says. Scott can feel him renew his efforts to try and pull them up, and wishes he could help.

“And you’re tired because?” he prompts, wondering if he’s this difficult when Virgil or John are trying to talk to him and deciding that yes, he probably is. He’s probably worse.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Virgil finally admits.

“Oh,” Scott says. “Is it insomnia again?”

Virgil’s had pretty bad bouts of insomnia off and on his whole life. It’s more than just occasional nights; they’ll last for weeks at a time. Weeks of his sleep schedule getting erratic and feeling hazy. Once, when he was in high school, he ended up in the hospital, having stayed awake for so many nights in a row because he just couldn’t sleep. It’s been over a year since it last happened, and Scott had nearly forgotten about them.

 _Nearly_. Because those sleepless nights always wore Virgil down, and Scott hated to see him like that. So he keeps an eye out. But things have been so fast-paced lately that he hasn’t had much time to talk to Virgil except for over the comm.

Still. Scott should have known.

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “Don’t worry, I’m working on it, and it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Do you need some downtime?” Scott asks, already mentally going through the arrangements. It’ll be difficult, especially since Alan and Gordon will need a solid twenty-fours off once they get back, and who knows how long it’ll take to get Scott and Virgil separated. He can call Kayo back from her mission; she won’t be happy about it, but she’ll come back. He can always ask John to come down from Five, though John will fight him on it.

He’s interrupted by Virgil saying, “No, I’ll be fine. Lady Penelope suggested this tea that Parker used to make her when she was younger and couldn’t sleep. I was going to try it tonight.”

Scott nods, then remembers Virgil can’t see him and rolls his eyes at himself. “Okay. Let me know how it goes.”

“Will do,” Virgil says. “I should have told you, I’m sorry.”

Scott knocks his helmet back against Virgil’s again. “Don’t be sorry. I should have noticed.”

“We’ve barely had time to speak face-to-face,” Virgil points out. “When would you have been able to notice?”

“It’s my job,” Scott says.

“You’re not all-knowing, Scott,” Virgil says, and how did this turn into Virgil talking him down again? Every time.

“Yeah, well, I should be,” Scott says, his tone light so Virgil knows he isn’t serious. Virgil huffs and renews his efforts to pull them up.

It’s then that the comm crackles back to life and Gordon announces, “Okay, folks, we’re in the area. We’ll be landing shortly.”

Scott can’t turn to see her, but he can sure as hell hear Three make her approach and then land. This area wasn’t made to be a landing pad for a rocket, but Alan makes it work, even as John sounds hesitant over the comm.

“Did someone call for a lift?” Gordon says as extra light is shone down from above them. Scott can suddenly see the ground and can tell the drop is farther than he’d originally estimated. That does not make him feel better.

“Get a scan of the adhesive,” John advises as Alan sends down a second line, directly into Scott’s reach. “Brain can get to work on identifying it.”

“F-A-B,” Gordon and Alan say in unison. Scott clips the line to his belt and pulls hard the line. They’re finally right side up, and for a moment Scott’s dizzy. He closes his eyes and takes a few breaths before the world steadies, and then looks up.

“That does not look comfortable,” Gordon says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Scott says. “Just pull us up, please. I’m hungry.”

Virgil snorts. “Me, too.”

“Me, three,” Alan says. “Can you guys get any closer to the wall?”

Now that Scott’s secure on his own line, there’s less risk in swinging. All _that_ ends up doing is tangling the lines, and making Gordon laugh, which is less than helpful. Alan seems to agree, if the way he elbows Gordon means anything.

“Good thing it wasn’t those two stuck together,” Virgil mutters, and Scott shudders.

“That would end so badly,” he says.

“We heard that,” Gordon says. “Give us a minute, I’ve got an idea.”

The next thing they hear is the sounds of Thunderbird Two’s VTOL engines, and Scott looks up to see her in all her massive green glory.

Alan’s clearly flying it, since Gordon’s hanging off the rescue platform that’s being lowered. He gives a cheerful wave as he gets closer. Scott rolls his eyes.

It takes a lot of maneuvering and some cursing, but eventually, Scott and Virgil are safely clipped to the rescue platform. As the platform retracts back into Thunderbird Two, Gordon asks, “So, does this mean I get to fly Two home?”

“How are we getting One home?” Alan asks.

“Set her autopilot to follow Two,” Scott says. He’s getting more irritated by this situation by the minute.

This only continues when they get inside Two and Gordon tilts his head.

“Uh, I don’t know how well you’re going to be able to walk like that,” he says. “Virgil, your head is level with Scott’s. Either he’s carrying you or he’s crouching.”

“Oh, God,” Scott groans. “Sorry, Virg, I’d carry you, but my arm is completely numb at this point and I don’t want to put more pressure on it.”

He can almost feel Virgil’s wince. “Fair enough.”

What follows is a very awkward sort of crab walk. It’s pathetic enough that Gordon takes pity on them and deletes the blackmail footage he’d taken before fetching a stretcher and just pushing them to the cockpit on that.

Alan’s landing Two as they get inside, and over his shoulder, he says, “Didja get the scan for Brains?”

“Oh, right!” Gordon says.

Alan turns as Gordon moves to scan the adhesive and raises an eyebrow. “Wow. How did this happen?”

“You know, I really wish I knew,” Scott says. “Can we go home?”

“Good idea,” Alan says, getting up. “John’s ready to set One’s autopilot to follow you, Gordon.”

“F-A-B,” Gordon says, settling into the seat Alan just vacated. It doesn’t escape Scott that they’re in the co-pilot’s seat, leaving Virgil’s usual seat open. He has to hide his grin as the lift lowers Alan to the ground and he crosses the ground to his own ‘bird.

Scott can’t help but be anxious as they head back to the island. He knows Gordon’s a good pilot, and he knows One’s autopilot is perfect, but there’s still just a tiny part of him that doesn’t relax until they’ve landed and One is safely back in her hangar.

Brains meets them in the hangar as they leave Two. Scott and Virgil are on the stretcher again, and Scott’s shoulder is starting to _really_ ache.

“This is an really complex substance,” Brains informs them as they head towards his lab. “I’ve n-n-never seen anything like it.”

“Tell me you can reverse-engineer it,” Virgil says.

“Oh, certainly,” Brains says. “But it will take time.”

“Can you two even get out of uniform?” Gordon asks skeptically.

As it turns out, they cannot. Scott can’t even get his helmet off. Some of the adhesive had apparently gotten on the back of it, sealing it on his head. This just keeps getting better and better.

“Can’t you just pry off the front of it?” Alan says from where he’s sitting next to MAX.

Brains frowns. “I d-d-don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, what if something breaks and hits his face?” Gordon says.

“Well, he can’t eat or drink with it on!” Alan points out.

As if on cue, Scott’s stomach growls, and he groans.

“Yikes,” Alan says.

“Okay, look,” Scott says. “Alan, Gordon, you two go get some rest. John, call Kayo and have her come back here.”

“I’m still good to go,” Gordon says.

Scott gives him a Look. It deserves a capital letter, and he knows it does, and Gordon immediately wilts.

“Fine,” he says. “Brains, how long do you think you’ll need to work on this?”

Brains is clearly no longer listening, if the way he’s muttering to himself means anything. Gordon rolls his eyes and stands up.

“Alan?” he says, turning. Alan doesn’t respond either, because he’s fallen asleep sitting up, leaning on MAX. Gordon throws his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m going to bed,” he says, and leaves. Virgil snorts.

“Drama queen,” he mumbles. Scott laughs, too.

Eight very, _very_ long hours later, Brains finally has a compound that breaks down the adhesive enough that Scott and Virgil can pull themselves apart. Scott’s shoulder hurts like hell and he knows his arm will feel absolutely _awful_ later, but he doesn’t pay any attention to it as he rips his helmet off and drops on the floor, breathing in air that isn’t recycled.

“Thank God,” he says.

“You’re the best, Brains,” Virgil says.

Brains is still immersed in his notes and just waves a hand in acknowledgement. Virgil snorts and turns to Scott.

“I’m gonna make burgers, you hungry?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
